What Used to Be
by LinaOso
Summary: "She used to be a lamb..." Some insights on Catherine and Henry's relationship behind closed doors. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I own none of the Reign

AN: Enjoy the read.

She used to apologize when he'd turn his back and she'd see the effects of their lovemaking. Long angry lines criss-crossing his back as the evidence of her passions. Passions that would only emerge when the only light to see by was the flicker of a candle or the pale glow of the moon. Her hazel, golden eyes would be filled to the brim with regret and concern as she tended to the wounds she had inflicted on him. Her delicate hands would be as attentive to him as they were when she was doling out the pleasure she'd felt. Her screams of bliss were reflected in the scars he bore, each one a wound well earned and hard won to find that mysterious piece of her that she wouldn't show him in the daylight. She was such an enigma. Each of her polite smiles, every obedient incline of her beautiful head, he knew there was something about herself that she wasn't saying. He could never quite figure her out. There was something within her that called out to him and they spoke when their bodies met on the sheets. She'd be open to him and would say everything he wanted to hear, everything he needed to know. He learned how to speak to her body and how to make her sing.

She used to be afraid to make noise. Biting on those plump lips to keep all her sounds of pleasure from him in fear that he think less of her, she fought with herself to be silent. As he moved above her, her eyes would be averted as her jaw clenched to keep her feelings from being known. She was so tense, so very tense as he moved within her, but he wanted to hear her. He encouraged her, and it took time, but finally he'd heard the heavenly sound of her moaning his name. He'd been so aroused, he came in the next moment. Even as he rolled off of her, he brought her to him and asked her to say it again. She'd shook her head in embarrassment, her gaze flitting to his for the most brief of instants. It wouldn't be until much later that he'd hear the same, but this time, he held on for the both of them and had answered her back. After that night, she'd give more to him, until finally he had her screaming his name. She wasn't so prim and proper with her back arched, her hands on him and moaning in the throes. He loved her that way. Her voice filling their room was something he sincerely hadn't thought he'd ever hear, but he was glad for it.

She used to keep her hands to herself until she felt that rush of power that came with touching her lover. He could tell she wanted to please him, but didn't know what to do and so he taught her. Taking her perfect hand in his, he stood before her in nothing but his own skin and brought her hand to his chest. He'd teased her, _You can touch me however you like. I won't bite unless you ask me too._ She'd blushed so prettily at that. Her hands had explored him that night and he'd stayed as still as he could, wondering what his Italian beauty thought. The way she touched him set him on fire with her fingers like feathers on his skin. Oh, she was a tease, a wonderful, naïve tease, and he'd keep her for all time if she'd let him. Moons passed until she had the courage to touch his arousal. His unexpected hiss of pleasure had her snatch back her hand in anticipation of a chastisement, but his plea for her to do it again had given her confidence. There was no inch of him that she hadn't mapped by now and still he craved those hands sliding over him. She could bend him to her will with the slightest of touches, could make him beg when she wanted to hear it, could even force his noble self to his knees before her. The power to exact her will upon him in ways no other could had her drunk with its high.

She used to be a lamb, but she'd become a lioness. She was wild and proud and strong as she took him with abandon. She needed no encouragements. She needed no guidance. She needed nothing but to love him the way she wanted. What he craved above all else was to worship this woman she'd become before his very eyes. She was incredible. Beyond beauty, his Catherine was a force. A punishing storm that broke him before sending him back home to harbor. A thunderbolt crashing down from the skies. An earthquake that rocked his very foundations. With her brow against his in the darkness and heat between them, he was desperate for her and told her as much. She pressed a smiling kiss to his cheek that let him know he was in good hands.

AN: I'd forgotten I'd had this, so here you go! I was going through old documents on my tablet and found this and yowzah. Apparently I wrote this back in January at three in the afternoon. Lies! …even though that's what the time stamp says. This isn't connected to anything, but I remember yall voted for a Catherine that initiates and…this is kinda it? I hope you enjoyed the read. Drop a line if you feel like it or hit me on Twitter: GiddyGracious. Any requests out there in FFN-land? You know I love you all so don't be shy xo


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